Where lilac trees are gossiping,
And whispering tell-tales to the breeze,
The sweet peas now are clambering
Across the old stump fence's knees.
Each hangs her pretty, graceful head,
The white, the pink, the mauve and red.
Above, the sunflower's golden throne
Resplendent shines across the leas ;
Below, I hear the monotone
Of happy-hearted bumble bees ;
And in the shade I hear the clink
Of some conceited bobolink.
The bumble bee is storing fast
His honey for his winter table,
And when the jars are filled at last
Each jar receives its proper label.
They 're labeled this wise, if you please ;
' Sweet Peas,' ' Sweet Peas,' ' Sweet Peas,'
' Sweet Peas.'
Once one I loved lay down to die ;
No power on earth had strength to save,
And when her soul went up on high
I planted sweet peas round her grave
To-night from out a thousand throats
To God a holy incense floats.